


Angel of Light and Life

by iforgotmysanity



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Blame the Niffler, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minimum Grindelwald, Newt stays in New York just a little longer., Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, much gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-09-08 13:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8846161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iforgotmysanity/pseuds/iforgotmysanity
Summary: Percival Graves has been Grindelwald's prisoner for months. In his delirium, Percival is convinced that the man who saves him from his hell is an angel. He's not far from the truth.





	1. A Saviour

It came all too quickly. The flash of red light, the screaming. It was only until it was too late that Percival realized that the scream was his own. He felt nothing but white hot pain, coursing through his body, a pain unlike any other. His lungs were beyond screaming as they struggled for air. They had stopped filling with air long ago, and Percival could already feel his conscience slipping away. Just before the darkness came, a hand gripped his hair, a foot connected with his ribs, and he was falling. His vision faded out just before he hit the bottom.

\---

“Wakey wakey, Percy!” a cold voice sneered at him from above.

Percival groaned as he opened his eyes to meet the cold blue ones staring back. 

“Who the hell are you?” he grumbled.

“What, you really don’t recognize me, Percy?”

As his vision cleared, Percival took in the full view of the man standing before him. He was sickly pale, with white-blonde hair slicked back. A sick grin spread across his face, as he saw the realization in Percival’s eyes. 

“Grindelwald.” Percival growled, his eyes shining with fierce rage.

“There it is. That’s my Percy.” Grindelwald sneered back.

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your Percy”

The cold mockery in Grindelwald’s eyes shifted into hot anger. Percival stared back with defiance, refusing to back down. Suddenly, the flash of light came again, along with the white hot pain, and the scream that seemed to rip itself out of Percival’s chest. This time, it only lasted a few seconds, yet the spell had left him breathless, tears involuntarily spilling out of his eyes.

“I’ll do what I GODDAMN PLEASE,  _ Percy _ .” Grindelwald screamed, inches away from Percival’s face. “Whether you like it or not, I’ll do what I goddamn please, and if you continue on with this silly little rebellious behaviour, I promise that you will wish you were dead.”

Percival’s breath caught in his throat, and he tried to hold back the angry sobs that were wracking his body. He felt an invisible hand on his throat, slamming him back to the cold brick wall. He felt a sharp pain at the back of his head, and a warm trickle down his neck. His hands and legs snapped together, as if bound together by invisible ropes. No. Real ropes, rough and raw, digging into his bare skin. He then felt Grindelwald’s hand, cold and clammy, gripping a chunk of hair, only to pull it right out of his scalp, as a half-scream, half-sob tore through Percival’s lungs once more. 

“What do you want from me?” Percival asked, trying to keep his voice as steady as he could.

“I want to be just like you, Percy. And I want you to tell me how.”

* * *

Percival groaned as he woke up. Again. He felt empty, as he did most days. A piece of stale bread lay on the ground by his face. He feebly grabbed at it, too starving to care how it tasted. It seemed like months since he had last eaten real food, or seen real sunlight, or slept on something other than the cold hard ground. Maybe it had been months. Or even years. Percival had no way of knowing. He wasn’t sure what time or day it was, but he had stopped caring long ago. Grindelwald’s visits were his only way of keeping track, as they seemed to be fairly regular. In the beginning, he would often come down to ask Percival questions about his co workers, trying to extract every scrap of information. Percival used to resist. Until the cruciatus threatened to push his sanity over the edge. Grindelwald seemed to sense his instability as well, as he began to use physical force to beat and torture him. Percival knew that Grindelwald needed him alive and sane, and he soon began to wish for the opposite.

Now, as a crack of light appeared above Percival, he sensed that it was just another bad day for Grindelwald, another day he needed to take his anger out on him. Percival lay weakly on the ground, awaiting whatever punishment came to him. 

“Percy!”

Percival winced at the sound of his own voice. He heard the footsteps approaching, and closed his eyes, preparing for the blow. A kick came swiftly, connecting with his shoulder. 

“Sit up and look me in the face.”

Percival obeyed, knowing that compliance came with less pain. He looked at the spot in between his-  _ Grindelwald’s _ eyes, not able to look at his own eyes anymore. Grindelwald’s version of him looked clean and strong, a stark contrast to how Percival suspected he really looked. His hair had grown out, and become shaggy and matted with blood, save for the patches that had been ripped from his head for Grindelwald’s Polyjuice. A beard had started to grow from his chin as well, now far past stubble. Now, Grindelwald towered above him, arms crossed and shoulders tensed. A shiver ran down Percival’s spine, as he recognized the stance. Grindelwald wasn’t angry today. He was  _ furious _ . It wasn’t until Grindelwald pulled out the wand and aimed it directly at Percival’s face that he moved at all, backing up against the wall and turning his head away. 

Heat seared Percival’s bare skin, the magical whip lashing out over and over. Percival collapsed to the ground and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming. He felt blood pooling on the ground below him, warming his fingers and toes, and bringing a sick feeling to his stomach. The lashes stopped, and were replaced with Grindelwald’s foot, bruising ribs and arms and legs. Just as suddenly as he had started, Grindelwald stopped. A sick grin spread across his face.

“Credence calls.” He muttered. Then, with a maniacal hoot of laughter, he apparated upwards and closed the trapdoor behind him with a click.

Percival slumped to the ground, his entire body aching and soaked with blood. The tears that spilled out of his eyes now were the first since Grindelwald had stopped using the Cruciatus curse. They were not tears of pain or self-pity. Percival was past crying for himself. Instead, the tears that ran like rivers over his bloody face were tears of gratitude. Gratitude towards Credence. The boy’s timing had probably saved his life. Percival wondered if he would ever meet Credence. Maybe, if this ever ended. But that was just wishful thinking.

* * *

Percival groaned softly as he rolled over onto his back. Something was wrong. Grindelwald should have come back by now. It felt like it had been at least a couple of days since his last visit. Percival wasn’t complaining. He didn’t miss the other man’s presence, but he was hungry. The fact that Grindelwald had kept him alive all this time, Percival wasn’t sure was a blessing or a curse. As the trapdoor opened again, his heart plummeted. Of course he couldn’t expect Grindelwald to stay away for too long. As long as he needed Percival’s face, Grindelwald would always come back sooner or later. The last thing Percival expected was a woman’s voice calling down to him from above.

“Mr. Graves?”

“You wait here, Tina. I’ll go down and take a look.”

“Newt you can’t go down there by yourself! It could be dangerous!”

“Alright, then, come on.”

Percival lay in shock, unable to make a sound. He realized how much he had missed the voices of other people, and a wave of emotion rolled through his chest. He finally let out a strangled sob, just as he heard a pair of shoes hit the floor.

_ “Lumos Maxima.” _

Percival groaned as a bright light filled the room, piercing his eyes like blades. A gasp echoed against the walls, and a figure shuffled closer to him. 

“He’s here, Tina! I’ve got him, he’s here!”

“Oh Merlin, thank goodness!” A distant voice replied.

_ Tina. _ The thought nudged at the back of his mind, willing him to remember something. 

“Mr. Graves?”

Percival’s eyes had now started to adjust to the light, and he could now make out a face, warm green eyes filled with worry, a smattering of freckles across nose and cheeks, and swooping reddish-brown hair falling onto a forehead. 

“Mr. Graves. We’re going to get you out of here. You’re safe now.”

“Are you an angel?” Percival whispered, voice raspy from lack of use and dehydration.

The man smiled shyly, and looked away, but said nothing. Percival felt the ropes around his wrists and ankles loosening, then disappearing altogether, leaving the skin underneath raw and crusted with dried blood. 

“Newt, you’ll have to carry him. He’s too weak to walk.” 

A woman with short brown hair and intense, yet soft brown eyes appeared at the man’s shoulder.

“Tina, I- I don’t think I can-”

“Newt.” The woman interrupted. “We need to get him out of here. You need to carry him. Please.”

“Alright. I’ll try.”

Gentle arms wrapped themselves around Percival, and he felt himself being lifted from the ground. A warm sensation filled Percival’s chest, and before he knew it, he was sobbing uncontrollably into his saviour’s shoulder. He felt the shoulder stiffen briefly, before relaxing again, followed by the man’s soft voice.

“It’s alright, Mr. Graves. You’re safe now. He’s gone. Shhh. Nobody can hurt you now. I’m here. You’re safe.”


	2. A Caretaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival Graves wakes up in a strange place. Newt looks after the auror, and begins nursing him back to health. Percival is mostly hungry.

Percival woke up on a bed. Covered in a blanket. A real bed, with a real blanket. And he was warm. For the first time in months, probably, Percival felt… comfortable. He realized that he had no idea where he was, and the more he thought about it, the more anxious he became. Percival’s heart raced as he got up slowly from the bed, his legs barely holding him up. 

“Hello?” He called out shakily.

When nobody answered, Percival shuffled out of the bedroom, gripping onto any surface he could find to help support his weight. 

“Hello?” He tried again.

This time, a head popped out from around the corner, followed by a small smile, and the rest of a body. The man, percival recognized as his saviour. Upon realizing this, Percival began to relax, a sense of safety washing over him.

“Mr. Graves, you’re awake.” The redhead said softly, slowly drawing nearer.

“Where… am I?” Percival mumbled, finally taking a good look around. 

The place was cozy, and warm. A fire was lit in the fireplace, and the smell of coffee wafted from the kitchen. 

“The Goldsteins were kind enough to let us both stay in their home. Me until I go back to England and you-” The man hesitated, eyes flickering up to meet Percival’s, then almost immediately back down to study the floor. “Until you find a new home.” He finished quietly.

“What’s wrong with the one I’ve got?” Percival asked sharply.

“No, it was a fine place, sir. It’s just that Grindelwald… Well he terrorized the muggles- er- no-majes in your building… using your… well… you. Had to obliviate the whole lot of them, but they still think that you’re a… criminal. Sir.” 

The man seemed to be looking anywhere but Percival’s face. Percival just stood there a moment, shocked. Feeling suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion, he stumbled forward, almost falling into the other man’s arms. 

“Oh- I erm… oh dear.” The man stammered, catching his shoulders “M-mister Graves? Sir, are you alright?” 

“I can’t-”

“Here, why don’t you sit down?” The other man smiled, helping him to the table. “I’m so sorry, you must be hungry. I’ll make you something to eat.”

Percival offered the smallest smile. 

“Thank you… erm-”

“Newt.” The other man offered. “Newt Scamander, sir.”

“Please, call me Percival.”

Newt smiled shyly and turned to the small kitchen. He began to cut up some fruits, putting them into a bowl, and levitating them to where Percival sat. As soon as he turned back around, Percival began to devour the food, realizing how hungry he had been. When Newt turned to check on him, he found the bowl empty, and Percival wiping his hands on a nearby napkin. 

“Mr. Graves…” Newt murmured, expression becoming serious.

Percival looked up, suddenly ashamed of how quickly he had eaten. Newt walked around to him, and crouched down until he was at eye level. Percival looked at the man before him, his thin nose and cheekbones etching into the space around them, blanketed in freckles that were illuminated by the gray morning light. He was unlike anything Percival had seen before.

“How long has it been since you last ate?” Newt asked, his green eyes shining with concern and… something else, Percival couldn’t quite place.

“I’m not sure.” He said quietly, after a moment’s hesitation. “Maybe a week.”

Something flashed across Newt’s face, an expression somewhere between anger and pain and worry. 

“What did he feed you?” 

“Mostly cabbage. Sometimes old bread if I was lucky.”

Percival tried to ignore the gnawing pain of his stomach and the soft grumbling noise that came with it. Newt, however, seemed to notice straight away, stumbling awkwardly as he stood, then blushing lightly as he regained his balance. His gaze returned to the floor, even as he addressed Percival once more.

“I’m so sorry, sir. I can’t imagine-”

“I don’t need sympathy, Mr. Scamander.”

“Right. My apologies sir.” Newt looked slightly crushed, but continued his thought. “I think you might be malnourished. It’s a wonder that you can function at all after not eating for so long.”

Percival just nodded solemnly. He had gotten used to the ever-present pain in his gut and had hardly noticed it. But now, that he had eaten something, it grew much, much worse. It was all he could do to keep from groaning in pain, but months of suppressing his reactions to pain kept his face from wincing. But the young man, clever as he was, noticed again.

“I- I’m sorry sir, I know you’re hungry, but you can’t eat too much all at once. You really should be resting in bed.” 

Percival began to protest, but Newt fixed him with a pained look and said in the quietest whisper,

“Please, sir.”

That was enough to shut him up and let Newt help him to his feet. He stumbled to his bed, tripping twice and cursing his dependance on Newt’s shoulder. Newt was silent, but gave a few shy, encouraging smiles. Once Percival was back in bed, Newt sat down on the edge, hesitating before putting his hand on Percival’s forehead.

“What are you- ?” 

Newt jerked his hand away, almost reflexively, looking away. 

“I- I’m so sorry, sir. I just need to check for a fever.”

“Oh.” Percival flushed slightly, embarrassed at his reaction. “Go ahead then.”

Newt slowly reached out again, almost like he was approaching a ferocious and irritable beast who would snap at any sudden movements. As soon as Newt’s fingers brushed against his brow, Percival felt a slight tingling in his chest. He frowned and pushed it back, concentrating on the soothing coolness of Newt’s hand on his head. His eyes fluttered shut, and his breathing slowed. He was calm. The hand on his forehead slid down to his cheek before leaving his face completely. He felt the mattress rise as Newt stood up again. He thought he had heard the man say something, but before he could comprehend the words, he was falling into a deep slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooo!! Thanks for reading!! I hope you all had wonderful holidays. I had some free time to work on this so here ya go! Next chapter will be up as soon as possible!


	3. A Niffler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt continues to heal Percival, although the damage will leave deep scars. A mischievous little friend of Newt's comes to visit.

_ Darkness was swallowing him, a cold sneer loomed ahead, just barely visible in the dim light. A cold sneer with cold eyes and a cold voice.  _

_ “Hello, Percy. Long time no see. Do you miss me?” _

_ Percival tried to speak, but no words came out. He tried to scream but no sound came out. He was back in the basement. Back in his torture cell. Grindelwald stepped closer, out of a shadow. Something was different this time. He was himself. He still wore Percival’s robes, but his skinny figure was visible through the shirt, and his pale skin and hair seemed to glow in the darkness.  _

_ “They got me, Percy.” Grindelwald whined. “You weren’t a good enough disguise. Credence is dead, and it’s your fault. Because you weren’t powerful enough Percy.”  _

_ Percival’s heart twisted in his chest. The poor boy was dead. He didn’t deserve that kind of end. _

_ “Not to mention your little friend.” Grindelwald continued. “He just  _ had _ to step in with his stupid little case of creatures and meddle with my plans. Did you know about him Percy? Did you know that he was coming?”  _

_ Grindelwald inched closer and closer, until the tip of his nose nearly touched Percival’s. _

_ “Every secret you keep from me will only cause more pain.” _

_ A red light appeared, growing nearer and nearer to Percival. His limbs were stiff, locked in place. He was falling. He was in pain. White hot pain coursed through his body again like an electric current. All the while, Grindelwald laughed coldly. _

_ “So tell me, Percy. Who is Newt Scamander?”  _

\--- 

“Mr. Graves? Sir?”

Percival woke with a start, fabric tangled in his fists and drenched with sweat. As his breathing began to even out, he realized that he was gripping someone’s shirt. And that someone happened to be a terrified-looking Newt Scamander. 

“Mr. Graves. I-”

“Mr. Scamander.” Percival cut him off, still catching his breath. 

“Sir, are you alright?”

Percival felt something rising in his chest. He tried to even out his breathing, but it still came in ragged gasps. He was horrified when an involuntary sob escaped, and he released the front of Newt’s shirt to cover his face with his hands. Newt didn’t know how to react. He stood there, beside Percival’s bed, contemplating whether or not it would do to try to comfort the crying auror. Finally, he made a decision, and awkwardly patted Percival’s arm. Percival forced the tears back down, wiping furiously at his eyes.

“What happened Newt?”

“You were screaming in your sleep, sir. And I-”

“No, what happened between you and Grindelwald?”

Newt was silent for a moment. He took a deep breath, and Percival noticed that his hands were shaking on his arm. He reached out hesitantly and placed a hand on Newt’s. Newt’s eyes snapped up to meet Percival’s then almost immediately turned away to look at everything else.

“You- ah… Grindelwald… he ah- I mean… Tina and I- we…” Newt stammered, obviously anxious.

“Newt.  _ What happened? _ ”

“He uh… He sentenced Tina and me to death, sir. And I think that’s when I knew he wasn’t… well… you. Then when Credence…” Newt’s face fell slightly “Poor boy… Grindelwald was using him. He was an obscurus, see… We caught him- Grindelwald I mean. He looked like you. Although I’m sure you already knew that.”

Percival was stunned. He had never heard of anyone escaping a death sentence, let alone escaping without being caught. Furthermore, this man had seen through Grindelwald’s disguise, something that, from what he had heard from Grindelwald, nobody else had been able to do. 

“How… ?” Percival asked, a hint of wonder in his voice.

“How what, sir?”

“How… did you escape a MACUSA death sentence?”

Newt’s eyes flickered towards a brown leather case sitting on the floor beside the other bed.

“I… had some help. Sir.”

“Is that so?”

Percival narrowed his eyes, and Newt took another deep breath.

“Mr. Graves, if I may- I think it would be best to have this conversation when you’ve returned to normal health.” Newt changed the subject, and Percival reluctantly followed along. “I have some soup for you, sir.”

At this, Percival sat up enthusiastically, gratefully accepting the bowl. Newt reached out behind him to rearrange his pillows. He noticed again, the sprinkling of freckles on Newt’s cheeks. His eyes traced the little marks down further than before, down his neck and disappearing under his collar. Percival wondered…  _ No _ . His focus snapped back to his hot soup, seconds before Newt sat back up. 

“I also have a uh…” Newt started, rummaging in his coat pockets. “Oh, bugger, where did it go? I could have sworn it was here… just…” Newt stood up, not finding what he was looking for. “One moment, please.” 

Percival watched Newt over his soup bowl, as the man walked back towards the kitchen. All of a sudden, he heard a loud crash and a banging of pots and pans.

“Oi! Give that back!” He heard Newt shout. “Yes, you can have it later, but I need it  _ now _ .” A pause. “No! Stop it you… give it- yes  _ alright _ . Paws off what isn’t yours, you little rascal! Don’t make me tickle you!” Percival had no idea what was going on, but it sounded like whoever was in the kitchen with Newt was a small child with thieving tendencies, or at least acting like one. Finally, Newt returned to Percival’s bedside, hair slightly mussed. He let out an exasperated sigh.

“Awfully sorry about that. I made a potion that I think might help you feel a bit better.”

“Who were you talking to?” Percival questioned suspiciously

“I uh… That was George.”

“George?” 

“My Niffler. He’s a tricky little rascal” Newt’s eyes flicked towards Percival once more.

“And what, pray tell, is a Niffler?”

“Oh, you never- No… of course not. Sorry.” 

Newt took a deep breath and took a small gold coin out of his pocket. He tossed it into the air and let it fall onto the floor with a small clatter. Percival heard a small pitter patter of feet before a little black creature with a snout came running through the doorway, skidding to a stop as it spotted the little gold coin on the floor. It grabbed the coin, seemingly inspecting it, then chittering at Newt, who was lifting him off the ground.

“Yes, you can keep it.” He said to the niffler, who squealed in excitement, and shoved the coin into a pocket that Percival hadn’t seen before.

“This,” Newt addressed Percival, “is George.”

The Niffler seemed to just notice Percival, and started chittering to Newt again, bewildered and… scared?

“No, he’s okay. I promise… No, he won’t do that… Remember I told you we found the real one? That’s- No, George. Don’t say that… That’s incredibly rude. Apologize to Mr. Graves” Newt scolded. 

Percival was now more than slightly confused, trying to follow the conversation between the man and the… Platypus-Mole? He watched in awe, as the Niffler turned in Newt’s hands and bowed his head towards Percival, emitting a small squeak. Percival stared, until he realized that both the Niffler and Newt were looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to respond. 

“I uh… That’s alright. I didn’t understand what you said anyhow.”

Newt chuckled and the Niffler looked pleased with himself. Even Percival allowed a small smile to form on his lips for a moment, before wincing at the sharp pain on his cheekbone. Newt noticed immediately, and smacked his forehead, gently dropping the Niffler back on the floor. 

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Graves. I forgot to check for wounds. You were asleep and I didn’t want to-”

“That’s quite alright, Mr. Scamander.”

“I uh, if you don’t mind, Mr. Graves, could you… er…  remove your shirt?”

Percival nodded, eyes lingering on Newt long enough to notice the blush that crept up his neck and all the way to his cheeks. He sat up and began to unbutton his filthy, bloodstained shirt. He peeled it off, wincing as the fabric unstuck itself from some of the welts on his back and arms. Newt let out a small gasp. 

“Nothing too serious, I think. Just a couple of small cuts.” Percival muttered, somewhat bashfully.

Newt approached slowly, cautiously. Percival watched him closely as he grew nearer. He flinched involuntarily when Newt reached out to touch him, and cursed under his breath.

“I’m fine.”

Newt looked at him hesitantly, then placed a warm hand on his shoulder. Percival shuddered at the touch, the heat from Newt’s hand seeping into his body, spreading to the tips of his fingers and toes. He could feel the cuts on his back and arms closing, stinging as the healing magic spread further. His breath caught in his throat when a rib snapped into place, and he allowed the warmth to take over. For a moment, he felt invincible. Then, he felt completely raw. He was brought back to reality by a small noise from Newt.

“Mr. Graves, come back to me. I’m here. Come back.”

Percival opened his eyes, now aware that he was shaking uncontrollably. That, and he was sobbing. This time, he didn’t stop. He let himself go completely, lifting his hands to grip Newt’s shoulders. He never expected Newt’s hands coming up to press him forward, one on his lower back, and one at the nape of his neck, bringing him in for a warm embrace. Percival turned towards Newt’s shoulder, crying harder than he had in years. He hadn’t been properly hugged since Ilvermorny. Newt, the wonder of a man, had subdued Percival’s past fears. Instead of taunting or taking advantage of Percival’s vulnerability, he instead filled the empty spaces with his soothing warmth. He rubbed circles over Percival’s spine, and whispered reassuring words, allowing Percival to be exposed without a scrap of judgement. They stayed like that for a full ten minutes, Percival breaking apart, and Newt holding him together. Finally, Percival seemed to run out of tears, and Newt out of words. Percival wished he could stay a bit longer in Newt’s embrace, but he sat up anyways, looking at Newt, who, for once, looked at Percival without breaking eye contact.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Graves.” Newt said, after a moment’s hesitation.

“Please, you don’t need to apologize for things you can’t control.”

“Right. Sorr- uh…” Newt trailed off, looking away.

And then, taking advantage of the other man’s averted gaze, Percival smiled. For the first time in a long time, he had the feeling that everything would eventually be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! I promise there will be more plot stuff coming soon, Graves just needs some sleep and Newt's potion, and he'll be mobile again, which will allow for more action. 
> 
> Also- I named the Niffler George, after George Weasley, because they're both little tricksters, and I love them both so much :')
> 
> Finals are coming up for me, so the next update might not be for a few weeks. I'll try to get as much done as I can, as soon as I can. Thanks!!


	4. A Meal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival continues to heal, and Newt continues to confuse him with talk of nifflers and nundus and such.

It was already beginning to get dark by the time the Goldsteins came home, both bearing gifts for Percival. Queenie had brought him a small brown box filled with strange-looking (but delicious) pastries, which he immediately devoured despite Newt’s frantic chastising. Tina’s gift on the other hand, was more returned property than a gift. She handed him the wand timidly, and it didn’t take long for Percival to recall Newt’s words from earlier. Tina hadn’t even been able to look Percival in the eye, and every time she talked to him, her tone hinted at both fear and guilt. 

Now, the sun was long gone, and Tina stood in the kitchen with Queenie. Percival sat propped up against the many plush cushions on the sofa, turning his wand over in his hand, inspecting it, as though it were a piece of evidence and not his own wand. The sisters were having a hushed conversation as they cooked, but it wasn’t hard to tell from the constant giggles that they were exchanging work gossip. Newt had disappeared about an hour before, mumbling something about creatures and Percival wondered whether someone should go check on him, to make sure that he hadn’t been killed by that niffler of his. Percival pushed himself up from the soft pillows, and immediately regretted it. He groaned in pain as he fell back, the noise earning the attention of the Goldstein sisters.

“Mr. Graves! Don’t move I’ll-”

“Don’t, Tina. I’m fine.” He growled, clutching his side.

“Sir, you’re in quite a bit of pain. I’ll get Newt.” 

Queenie ran off towards Newt’s case, and Percival couldn’t help but wonder if she had read his mind to know to get Newt. 

The man came stumbling into the living room, wide eyed and worried. His shirt was untucked, and partially unbuttoned, exposing the trail of freckles that cascaded down his chest. Percival barely noticed the young man through the pain, until he was there, kneeling next to him, pulling the shiny bottle out of his pocket once more.

“Here, Mr. Graves. Drink this. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Newt’s hand brushed against Percival’s face once more and gently coaxed his mouth open. The cool liquid slid its way onto Percival’s tongue once more, and he relaxed, swallowing the potion. The pain in his side subsided to a dull ache, and Percival opened his eyes once more. Newt hovered above him, bathed in the soft glow of the apartment. His warm hand still rested on Percival’s cheek, thumb sliding over his unshaven jaw. 

“Thank you, Mr. Scamander.” Percival sighed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” Newt whispered guiltily. “I was so distracted, I’m sor-”

“Don’t be. I’m alright… I’ll be alright.”

The potion took effect and Percival felt his eyelids grow heavy. The warmth of Newt’s hand slowly left his face, and he almost wished that it would stay forever. Tina’s blurry figure came to stand behind Newt, and percival swore he heard her ask,

“He’ll be okay, right?”

The answer to which, Percival was far too fast asleep to hear. 

 

Percival awoke in a cold sweat, the image of Grindelwald’s face still floating behind his eyelids. The dark wizard’s words echoed in his mind, as though it were being played on a scratchy record in another room. 

_ “Who is Newt Scamander?” _

Percival took a long, deep breath, and held it until his lungs burned and his heart slowed its rapid thumping to a steady beat.  

“Don’t forget to exhale, Mr. Graves.”

Percival jumped at the sudden noise, and turned to find its source. Queenie stood in the doorway of the bedroom.  _ The bedroom? _ Percival supposed he must have been transported there after he fell asleep on the couch the night before. A rush of images came back to him. A hand, soft green eyes, and a sea of freckles. 

“Where’s-”

“Newt went out to get some food, sir. He’ll be back in a bit.” Queenie smiled, and carefully approached Percival, holding a steaming tray. “I don’t suppose you’d like some breakfast?” She asked sweetly.

“I’d  _ like _ for you to not read my mind.” Percival growled. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Graves. It’s just…  you think so  _ loudly _ , I can’t help but hear it.”

“Loudly?”

“Imagine hearing a room full of people.” Queenie explained, handing him the plate of eggs and coffee. “ Most of the people in the room are just whispering, and maybe a couple of them are talking–well, in this case thinking–at normal volume. And then one person is just standing in the corner of the room shouting. It’d be hard not to hear him, right?”

“And I’m the one person who’s shouting.” Percival nodded, and slowly moved back to lean against the headboard. 

“And that’s how come I always hear you, sir. Over everyone else… Even Newt-”

She stopped mid-thought, as the apartment door opened to reveal the man himself, arms full of grocery bags and another brown box, just like the one from the day before. Newt stumbled in, clumsy and awkward as ever, and dumped the bags onto the kitchen table. Queenie wandered to the doorway to see what the big commotion was.

“Newt, for goodness’ sake! How much did you buy?!” Queenie chastised.

“Oh! Good morning, Queenie. I’m sorry I took so long, I just-” He stopped short as he turned around, staring at Percival, who suddenly realized he had been smiling, and instantly ceased to do so. 

“Mr. Scamander. Good morning.” 

“Good morning sir.” Newt said, eyes snapping away from Percival’s. “Good to see you awake, how are you feeling?”

“Just fine, thank you.”

“Newt!” Queenie interjected. “What is all this food?”

“Oh… right, sorry. See, I’ve been so busy the past few weeks that I never restocked and my creatures need to eat. I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot.”

“Oh. I see. That’s alright, honey.” Queenie softened at seeing Newt’s eyes (and honestly, who wouldn’t?) 

At this point, Percival was so lost that he had let his eggs go cold, just trying to follow the conversation. 

“Do you need help then?” Queenie asked. “I’m sure Gloria has forgotten about that whole flobberworm episode, and I-”

“No, Queenie that’s alright.” Newt interrupted. “And actually, graphorns have quite impressive memory capabilities, so I wouldn’t test that theory.”

“I’m sorry, but what on earth are graphorns?”

Newt’s gaze shifted to Percival, and for a moment, he thought he saw terror in Newt’s eyes. But if there was any fear there before, it had shifted into bright enthusiasm.

“Oh, you don’t–? No, of course not. I’m sorry… Well, in that case, you must meet them, Mr. Graves. And oh! You’d love the nundu. And the puffskeins! And you will absolutely  _ love _ Pickett. He’s my favorite, but don’t tell the others. And– oh… I’m sorry… I’ve started rambling again, haven’t I?” Newt’s face grew red in hue, and Percival swallowed a chuckle that rose in his chest. 

“Who exactly are these people?”

For a moment, Newt stared at him incredulously, and Percival realized he had said something wrong. Suddenly, Queenie’s pearly laughter shattered the awkward silence. She walked back to the kitchen, giggling the whole way. Percival looked down at his eggs again, and with a strained wave of his hand, warmed them again. He fixed his eyes on Newt over the rim of his coffee, and took a long sip. Newt had the sense to collect himself again, the crimson fading once more from his cheeks. After a moment, he took a breath and walked to Percival’s bedside.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Graves?” He asked softly, eyes flitting around to everything but Percival.

“I believe you already asked me that question, Mr. Scamander.”

“Oh.”

The young man looked absolutely crushed by Percival’s comment, and he instantly regretted his words. He took another sip of his coffee before trying again.

“I’m feeling better, if that’s what you’re asking, Mr. Scamander.”

At that, Newt’s face lit up again, and he finally turned his gaze to meet Percival’s, at least for a moment. 

“That’s wonderful, sir. I’m glad to hear it.”

Percival nodded, taking another sip of his lukewarm coffee. Which reminded him… 

“Am I allowed to eat again Scamander?” 

“Oh, yes. You’ve finished with the potion, so you should be safe to eat whatever you want to.” He paused, smiling as though deciding whether or not to tell an exciting secret.

“An interesting potion… Never heard… of anything like this.” Percival said through a mouthful of eggs. 

“Uh– yes sir. I invented it.” Newt smiled bashfully.

Percival almost choked on his eggs. This man– _ this  _ man–had invented the very potion that had saved him?  _ This _ man here, who stumbled and mumbled and rambled about crazy things like, like  _ nifflers _ and  _ graphorns _ ? 

“How?” was really the only thing that Percival could think of to say. But of course, Percival should know how. He had been the top of his potions class at Ilvermorny, and the official Potions tutor for Wampus House for three out of five years. So how had he never even heard of a potion to stop something so simple as a little hunger?

“When you finish your eggs, I can show you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! And thanks for tolerating the long breaks between chapters, I'm going to try my best to update as frequently as I can this summer.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked this little thing. I'll probably post the next chapter pretty soon. If you want to chat with me about Fantastic Beasts / Harry Potter / Ezra Miller / etc., you can find me on Tumblr at @soda-bee


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